


Burden

by Amymel86



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, victorian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: But as it stands, Lord Robert Stark is no more familiar to him than the cobbler he seeks twice a year, and he’s yet to make the Lady Sansa’s aquaintance at all.“How are things in York?” his cousin asks, candle-glow from the single lit wick on their small oak table dancing across the amenable smile on his face. “Is your practice running nicely? And Aunt Lyanna? Is she faring well?”A dribble of melted wax travels down the old, dusty wine bottle now acting as the candle’s home, dark brown glass long vacant from its contents. Jon’s lips twitched. He took another sip of brandy. “I trust you’ve not asked me here at half a day’s journey purely to exchange pleasantries?”Robb shoves a hand through his hair and downs the dregs of his own drink. “Quite,” he agrees, signalling for his glass to be refilled. When that was accomplished, he watches the innkeep walk away and makes a sweep of their establishment before leaning in. “I’m afraid, cousin, that I must ask to burden you with something. For the good of the family.”
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 229





	Burden

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo.... this one shot was originally going to be part of an A-Z of one shots I was working on but as I came up with more and more ideas for the letters, there turned out to be about 3 or 4 ideas that really took my interest in terms of longer fics so I've decided to change my focus to those instead. This one would have been 'B is for Burden'...

The Queen and Dagger Inn is a not-so-respectable establishment that happens to reside in a small village of no particular note on the outskirts of Leicester. It also happens to be very roughly halfway between Jon’s abode in York and his cousin, Lord Robert Stark’s residence in London. It had been an arduous carriage ride to make it here. When Jon arrives, the lamps had long been lit to illuminate the pitch of the night.

A fire pops and fizzles in the grate as Jon enters, a few heads turn his way but he could spot his cousin even in the dim. A Lord, a member of the ton, does not frequent these kinds of establishments unless he is looking for a three-penny-upright or a gamble. Though, there are much more agreeable places to do both, Jon is sure.

In any case, although he is not overly familiar with his cousin, he is sure he had not written and asked to travel and meet in such a place for either of those ungentlemanly past-times. “A brandy, please, innkeep,” he says, nodding to the white-whiskered gentleman behind the bar. Numerous sets of eyes were on him as he approaches the table.

“Cousin Jon,” Robb greeted with a subdued version of his winning smile. “Thank you for making the journey. Are you well?”

Jon’s brandy arrives. He made to pay the man, but his cousin was faster. “I’m able to afford my own spirits, cousin,” Jon comments, tipping a nip of the deep honey liquid to his lips.

Lord Stark gives a small smile. “I’m sure you are.”

Jon and his mother have long been the poorer relations ever since he was sired. A young, impressionable Lyanna Stark swept away by romantic whisperings uttered by his rogue father. She was tucked away in the Yorkshire countryside to have her babe, and there she has stayed, as unwed as the day Jon was conceived. His mother had told him once that Robb’s father, his uncle, had fought to bring her back to town, back to the family. If he’d not died of an infection on his injured leg not long after Jon’s younger cousin, the Lady Sansa was born, perhaps things may have been differing.

But as it stands, Lord Robert Stark is no more familiar to him than the cobbler he seeks twice a year, and he’s yet to make the Lady Sansa’s aquaintance at all.

“How are things in York?” his cousin asks, candle-glow from the single lit wick on their small oak table dancing across the amenable smile on his face. “Is your practice running nicely? And Aunt Lyanna? Is she faring well?”

A dribble of melted wax travels down the old, dusty wine bottle now acting as the candle’s home, dark brown glass long vacant from its contents. Jon’s lips twitched. He took another sip of brandy. “I trust you’ve not asked me here at half a day’s journey purely to exchange pleasantries?”

Robb shoves a hand through his hair and downs the dregs of his own drink. “Quite,” he agrees, signalling for his glass to be refilled. When that was accomplished, he watches the innkeep walk away and makes a sweep of their establishment before leaning in. “I’m afraid, cousin, that I must ask to burden you with something. For the good of the family.”

_The good of the family?_ Jon knows not what this burden shall be, but he hardly considers himself or his mother a Stark anymore what with them travelling amongst high society and he, a practicing physician. What grave burden must he now carry? He nods his head the once, indicating for his cousin to continue.

“My sister, Sansa,” he begins, wetting his lips, “she... she has found herself in some difficulties as a result of – well – being deceived most horribly.”

Jon’s brows furrow as he leans back in his chair, taking his brandy with him. “That sounds troubling.”

“Indeed. She was...” Robb took a breath, seeming to change tact in conversation. “My sister has always had her head amongst the stars. Dreaming of great romances and happily ever afters.”

Jon cocks his head. Another dribble of wax tumbles down the glass bottle. “As I’m sure many ladies do. Nothing wrong in it.”

“No. No, _quite_. It’s just... she was bamboozled rather badly by one utter heel of a man. He...” Robb casts a glance around and leans forward to speak in a low voice. “He convinced her they were in love but that his family had set their sights on a lady of even higher standing in society for him. I suppose my sister thought it all rather exciting; the forbidden love. He convinced her to wed quietly in a little chapel outside of London. It was all done before any of the family were aware. She... well, she had her wedding night in the village where the union took place and that was that.”

Jon shook his head at his cousin. “I do not know where all this secrecy and talk of burdens comes in.”

“Well, the gentleman turned out to be lowest kind of blaggard. The minister who’d performed their wedding was a great friend of his and no minister at all. He’d roped the chap in to this charade of his making and got him to pretend to be a man of the cloth.”

“The wedding was unlawful?”

Robb took a hefty swig of his drink, bringing the tumbler down hard on to the worn oak of their little table. “The wedding was unlawful,” he nods his head. “My sister was tricked into laying with a man that she thought to be her newlywed husband. She thought he loved her.”

Jon’s mind drifted to his own mother – of how his father had said his pretty words and then cast her aside when he’d felt he’d succeeded in his conquest. He could not stop his lip from curling in disgust and took another nip of brandy to steady his emotions. Men of his father’s ilk disgust him quite terribly. “That is... unfortunate.”

“Yes...” Robb toys with the glass between his hands. “And she is now with child.”

Jon blinks at his cousin. _Ah._ A moment or two of low murmuring from the other patrons passes while Jon let the situation his Lady cousin finds herself in settle in his mind. She must be utterly heartbroken and terrified. “He cannot be made accountable? A proper union between the two cannot be made?”

Robb shook his head. “The man refuses to acknowledge his wrongdoing and will not claim the child. It was his word against her own. I’d call for a duel if the scoundrel hadn’t tucked his tail and travelled abroad – business on the continent apparently.”

_Typical_. Jon found himself getting quite enraged at this unnamed gentlemen. “What is to be done?”

With a heavy sigh, Robb wet his lips once more. “This is where we need you, good cousin,” his finger taps at the worn wood grain of the table. “There is no one better to look after Sansa in her hour of need. You’re family, and a physician. If she can stay with you until her time comes, we would be tremendously grateful.”

Makes sense. His modest house is tucked away in the quiet of the countryside. Who is there to spread rumours and gossip about a young unmarried pregnant woman except the sheep and the larks?

“And when the baby comes?” He’s not delivered a baby in perhaps a year or two. He’ll have to renew his knowledge on the maternity and infant sciences.

“My wife, Jeyne will need to stay with you also.” This causes Jon’s brows to knit. “I will spread word in town that she is expecting again and convalescing in the country. When the baby comes, we will claim the child as our own.”

Jon did not quite know what to say to that. The plan – clever as it was – seemed rather cruel to his cousin, the Lady Sansa. That she should give up her babe. Although, there seemed no other alternative that did not mean utter ruination or giving up the babe entirely – at least he or she would stay within the family.

“I...” Jon shook himself and took the last of his brandy. “I do not possess the means that your sister and wife will be accustomed to. No footmen, no hall boys, no scullery maids. I do well, but my house is modest by their standards, I’m sure. Only the one cook, part-time, a maid who has no qualms in scolding me for walking mud into her rugs and a butler with whom I sit and take brandy with of an evening. And my mother, of course.”

His Lord cousin smiles widely. “Sounds perfect,” he says, his face turning a mite sombre again afterwards. “I am sorry to bring this burden to you, cousin.”

“When will you send her to me?”

“She’s in my carriage now. I was rather hoping, you’d –“

“ _You brought her here?”_ He had been a tad louder than the rest of their conversation. A few other patrons looked their way. Robb only nods.

“Yes, Sansa now, and Jeyne to join you in a month or two. Will you help her, cousin?”

***

They arrange the exchange of his Lady cousin from one carriage to the other in a dark, country track that neighboured the inn. Robb finally helped her to enter Jon’s carriage after seeing to it that her luggage was secured to the tail board. She glances briefly at him before turning to bid her brother farewell. Her eyes were forget-me-not blue and just about the prettiest he’d ever seen. He wet his lips when her hood came down to reveal the most stunning shade of auburn. Her skin looked like sweet cream. “ _Cousin Jon_ ,” she bows her head briefly at him and he was reminded to remove his top-hat. “I wish that we could have met under differing circumstances.”

“Indeed, Lady Sansa.” His throat felt tight. The carriage bumped its way into movement again.

“My brother told you everything?”

“He did.”

His cousin nods her head. She looks like a picture, sitting there opposite him, straight-backed and prim. Lace gloved hands crossed in her lap. She’s not showing yet but Jon knows she’ll carry the babe well. He wonders if she’ll faint away if he were to suggest that she forgo her stays once she swells. He feels his cheeks heat absurdly at the very notion of the conversation.

“Then you’ll know that I am no whore,” she said plainly, posture perfect as the carriage bumps and rolls into the wheel divot. “I was tricked by a scoundrel and every night I curse his wretched name into my feather pillow,” Lady Sansa proclaims before turning away to watch the absolute pitch black of night pass by outside the window.

_Oh, she has some pep._ And if he’s not careful he’s in danger of being half in love with her before they even arrive back in York.

She thinks better of watching the night go by and those forget-me-not blue eyes are back on Jon again. Her tone is a little remorseful now, as though she regrets her mild outburst. “I am sorry to be a burden to you, cousin.”

“I assure you. You are no burden at all, Lady Sansa.”

The smile on her berry pink lips was the finest thing in all of Jon’s memories. “Just ‘Sansa’ will do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I *MIGHT* expand on this one in another one shot since I quite like the idea :)


End file.
